


Bo & Arrow

by Go_Fic_Yourself



Series: Bo & Arrow Verse [1]
Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Casual Sex, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, one night stand that sticks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_Fic_Yourself/pseuds/Go_Fic_Yourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets based on the relationship between Clint Barton and Remy LeBeau in the RP group I belong to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This has to stop happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early on in Clint and Remy's whatevership.

Clint fell back onto the bed with an exhausted groan. 

This had to stop happening. 

He felt filthy in the best possible way, the smell of smoke from the battle was still strong on his skin and he was sticky with sweat and come. His whole body ached pleasantly from the work of the day and the effort of afterwards. The fact that they were sprawled out and panting on top of pristine sheets only added to the feeling of debauchery. 

When his breathing finally started to slow the first word he could from was a half stunned, half reverent, "Fuck." 

A voice like the grin on the Cheshire Cat came from next to him. "Oui."

Clint's eyes flicked over to him and found the very picture of self-satisfaction, and the irritation from that smugness helped him fight off the thought of how much he liked seeing the other man loose limbed and well fucked in his bed.

Red on black eyes met his own and the smile that reached them was genuine. He reached over, taking Clint's hand and tugging it until Clint rolled onto his side and their hands were pressed over Remy's taut stomach. "Nap wit' me an' we can have roun' two in a'couple hours." 

Clint was pressed up against Remy's back and his dick gave a valiant twitch at the thought, earning him a low chuckle from the other man.

"Nap firs', cher, den you can fuck me into the mattress again." 

Clint groaned and buried his face in the other man's hair. 

This really had to stop happening. But later. After a nap. And round two.


	2. Accident and mistake aren't synonymous

The first time had been an accident. 

Or maybe a mistake? 

Definitely an accident, maybe a mistake. The jury was still out on that one. 

He could just imagine Natasha's accusing eyebrow lift if he tried to explain it to her. That expertly plucked brow would say 'what, he just fell on your dick somehow?' with just as much clarity as if she used her voice. 

The answer was no, obviously. At least if you meant literally. Figuratively...he wasn't sure he could argue against that. 

Both of them had been at the bar for the same reason, looking for a distraction. Didn't matter if it was a fight or a fuck, they'd have taken it. Lucky for them and the surrounding city blocks they'd gone with the latter (though really, neither was an unlikely outcome knowing them). 

That would have been fine, they could have moved on from that, if it hadn't been the best sex of his goddamn life.


	3. Tripping, stumbling, not quite falling

Clint wasn't sure how long they'd been doing this before his daydreams moved from new and interesting positions he and Remy could get their bodies into and on to the way Remy looked when he first woke up, all bleary and sleep tousled or the way he chewed on his lower lip while he was deciding if he wanted to share some detail of his past with Clint or not (usually the answer was not, but more and more often he was willing to share). 

He also wasn't sure when some of the heat he felt for Remy turned warm and fuzzy and climbed upwards, settling somewhere in his chest. 

All he did know was that by the time he knew what was happening it was way to late to stop it.


	4. Gradual, inevitable

Clint had always fallen fast, even when it went against his own better judgement. 

This time was different. He and Remy fell into bed quick, but everything else took time. Clint didn't really notice the change until one day while he was watching dog cops the thief trudged into Clint's apartment looking dead on his feet. 

The cushions dipped when Remy flopped onto the couch next to Clint, kicking his shoes off and tucking his long legs under him. He settled his head on Clint's shoulder, saying something that was so garbled with sleep that the only word Clint made out was, "cher." He had enough time press a kiss to Remy's forehead and to settle himself in for the long haul before the other man was out. 

Clint held position for two hours (the best use he'd had for his sniper skills in some time). It was only when Remy started to shift with discomfort that he woke the other man and led him to bed. 

Clint stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep even though he was exhausted. Remy was half on his chest and at the forefront of his mind. Over the next hour he came to a series of realizations that kept him awake until the sun rose.

Firstly, that Remy had been coming over more frequently the last several weeks. 

Second, that Remy stayed longer after they had sex than he had when this first started. He used to stay the night and leave an hour or two after waking, now there were times he would spend the whole day with Clint. 

Third, that Clint liked that time at least as much as the sex. 

And lastly, that he was terrified because a not insignificant portion of himself never wanted it to end.


	5. Nerd and other four letter words

Three months in and Clint would still catch himself thinking of this as a one night stand kind of thing. 

Sure, that probably made it the longest one night stand in history, but somehow it had never crossed the line into relationship territory until today. 

Three months of fantastic sex (fantastic didn't even begin to cover it. Unfortunately there hadn't been an abundance of thesauruses in his childhood, so fantastic would have to do). 

Three months of Remy climbing catlike through his window and tumbling gracelessly into his bed. 

Three months of Clint asking him to stay the night. 

Of shared breakfasts.

Of kisses that felt less and less like 'goodbye' and more like 'see you soon'. 

Each time Remy stayed a little longer.

Today their morning after had lasted until six pm and found them cuddling on the couch, making their way through the original Star Trek movies, arguing passionately about the relative merits of each. 

"Ok, but we have to agree on which one is the best. There is an actual right answer." Clint insisted.

"Der is, I just don' know if you have de right one." 

"Count of three?" 

Remy gave a nod and they counted down together.

"3..2..1-"

"Wrath of Kahn." They said as one. 

Clint couldn't help the dopey grin on his face, but comforted himself with the fact that Remy's wasn't much better. 

"Glad I don't have to kick you out." 

"Glad I don' have to kick your ass, cher." 

They both leaned in, meeting in the middle for a kiss that lasted until the ending credits rolled.

Clint broke the kiss and flicked a quick glance at the TV. "Want to watch the next one?" 

Remy's laugh ghosted over Clint's lips. "Don't t'ink we watched much a dis one." Clint stole a kiss, brief this time, though less so when Remy pulled him back in for another. "Mebbe we should just take dis to bed?" 

Clint nodded his agreement, though the kiss that followed meant it took a while for them to actually make it off the couch.

Afterwards, when Clint was still catching his breath and Remy was already sleeping curled up against his side, he realized that this was the first time Remy stayed more than one night in a row. 

Clint felt a warm glow start up in his chest and spread out to his extremities. Then that glow turned cold and filled him with a terror so strong it made Remy stir in his sleep.


	6. Want or Need?

Remy is sprawled over half a Clint's bed. Lithe limbs and lean muscle thrown haphazard in sleep. Slow breaths puffing a lock of hair that had fallen hear his mouth. Clint watched the curl lift and settle on even peaceful huffs for a time, paying equal attention to the movement and his lover's lips, soft, half parted and tempting.

Though that descriptor wasn't reserved for any one part of the sleeping man. 

The night had been unseasonably warm and Remy had thrown the covers off in his sleep, revealing his naked back and only covering him again at the swell of his ass. 

Clint propped himself up on one elbow to admire the view. Strong, scarred, sculpted shoulders that still bore Clint's marks from the night before. Shoulderblades thrown into stark relief by the position of his arms and the moonlight coming through the window. Further down there was the slim waist that seemed made to have Clint's arms around it.

All in all Clint had experienced much worse sleepless nights in the past. 

Now if he could just stop the sudden pangs of wanting, of longing for something that was only a foot and a half away.

Something in him was dying to pull Remy close or crowd into his space and never leave. It had been happening more and more lately. It was a pull to make this more than this was, more than it should be and the fact that Clint was resisting it every step of the way didn't seem to be making any difference.


	7. Chapter 7

Looking across the bed at his sleeping lover (he calls him that now, if only in the safety of his mind) Clint thinks that he could draw Remy's body from memory, had his talents had taken an artistic bent. 

The amount of time he's spent exploring and enjoying that landscape of sharp angles and smooth plains has given him a unique perspective of the topography of the man's form.

He knows all the spots that make Remy tremble and the ones that make him quake. He knows the way to touch him that will earn him sighs and those that will get him gasps and moans.

It has been a long time since he's had a lover long enough to learn their body but now that he does he can't seem to shake this wanderlust. 

He watches the gentle, nearly imperceptible rise and fall of Remy's back as he sleeps, every exhale throwing the shadows of his shoulder blades and the curve of his spine into greater relief.

That gentle slope from neck to ass has his fingers aching to touch, his tongue desperate to taste. To lick along that line and pick up the salt of sweat from earlier when he'd had Remy, pinned and begging beneath him.

Clint couldn't explain what this man did to him. How he managed to make him want with such a persistent and all encompassing need. Sometimes he couldn't help but marvel at it. At thirty-five he was far from ancient, but he wasn't a teenager either. There was no reason he should be awake and contemplating another go at it, yet here he was. 

For his part, Remy didn't seem to have a care in the world and slept soundly, completely unaware of Clint's musings on the pillow next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my shipmate, Mari who plays the Remy to my Clint in the RP group and thanks to Siobhan who came up with the amazing ship name "Bo & Arrow."


End file.
